


To Whom We Belong

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Time, M/M, Omega Sam, Quasi-Ownership, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6398836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 22, Sam’s too old for a mentor, too old for his father or brother holding him through his heats to be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Whom We Belong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SamSlasher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamSlasher/gifts).



It’s a desperate bid. A desperate, hopeless bid to keep his brother with him. Dean’s not sure if he’s more horrified or relieved that it works.

 

Jess was Sam’s registered alpha. That had hit Dean hard in the face when he was helping Sam fill out paperwork after the fire. Of course, Dad had been Sam’s alpha when he was a kid, as all alpha parents are, but Dean had thought that Sam had been assigned a mentor so he could stay at college.

 

Apparently, that was no longer the case once Jess came into the picture. Now, at 22, Sam’s too old for a mentor, too old for his father or brother holding him through his heats to be enough. He has to have an alpha, and the woman talking to them about sending Sam to an omega home doesn’t get much further than that before Dean is shouting. The social worker lets him rant, stoic-faced like she’s been through this a million times - hell, she probably has - before taking a single, deep breath.

 

“I understand your concerns, Mr. Winchester, but Sam’s heats are only going to get worse. He will get sick. He could go insane or possibly die. It is criminal for an omega his age to not have an alpha for any length of time, regardless of the situation. A home is his best chance for for finding a new alpha.” Her words are clipped, harsh, and Dean’s not sure if he wants to cry or yell some more.

 

“Then I’ll do it. I’ll be his alpha,” is what he says instead.

 

His declaration is met with silence and wide eyes. Sam’s expression stays stunned while the social worker’s shifts into something that’s almost calculating.

 

“You’re telling me that you can provide for all of Sam’s needs? Emotional, physical, psychological?” _Sexual._ She doesn’t say it, but it’s definitely implied.

 

“Dean,” Sam starts, soft and tired, but Dean just shushes him.

 

“Can’t leave you, Sammy. I won’t,” he murmurs before turning back to the woman watching them. “Yeah. I will. I’ll sign a damn contract if I have to.”

 

As it turns out, he practically has to. There’s an application for alpha status and a corresponding form that has to be filled out by Sam agreeing to the arrangement. On top that, they both have to fill out and initial page after page of an alpha/omega union form until Dean’s not entirely sure what he’s agreed to.  

 

Sam’s quiet the entire way back to the motel. He’s got a brand new alpha marker around his wrist, Dean’s name and contact information stamped on the band. His old one is tucked in his duffel inside a ziploc bag. Dean had insisted on him keeping it the minute he saw the heartbreak that flickered across Sam’s face when the man had the courthouse had clipped it off him.

 

The generic markers are plastic, and Sam fiddles with it as he stares out the window of the darkening city. Dean half wishes he could get something softer, less glaringly obvious, but there’s no way he’s collaring Sam. Especially not now, when the tan line around Sam’s neck where Jess’ dainty leather collar had been shows itself so starkly.

 

Dean grumbles when the motel clerk gives him a funny look for asking for a double room, but the young beta hands over the keys to 201 without too much trouble. Sam’s in the bathroom, duffel dumped on the bed before Dean can - what, apologize? Beg for forgiveness? Hell.

 

Dropping his own bag by the other bed, Dean flops down onto the scratchy comforter. It’s way too early for bed, especially for a hunter. He ponders going to the bar or running to a store to get booze, but liquor isn’t going to help Sam any. Or Dean, for that matter. He’s gonna have to keep his head on straight, at least for now.

 

Sam emerges half an hour later, snorting softly when he sees Dean still sprawled out face-down on the bed.

 

“Can we order in?” It’s a soft request, but one that makes Dean’s stomach clench.

 

“Sure, Sammy. Whatever you want, man.” Dean’s words are half mumbled against the sheet, and he strains to hear Sam’s quiet response.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Rolling over, Dean sits up and looks at his brother. Sam just looks lost, unsure and upset and too much like the little boy who used to ask when Dad was coming home.

 

“Sam. I’m not gonna expect you to fuckin’ . . . I don’t know. Kowtow to my every whim, okay? I’m not that kind of alpha, you know that. I’m still Dean and you’re still Sam and this doesn’t change anything between us.”

 

The words are stupid and patently not true. Dean realizes that at soon as they’re out of his mouth. Sam looks like he’s going to argue for a moment, mouth twisting; instead, he just sighs and deflates, shuffling over to his bed. Dean sprawls out on his back, staring at the ceiling while listening to Sam order pizza in those subdued tones.

 

“This changes everything, Dean. Whether you like it or not,” he mutters when he’s finished, heading off to shower and clicking the door shut behind him before Dean can respond. Of course, he has no idea what he’d even say to that. Being Sam’s alpha, and all that entails . . . well. Maybe he’s not ready to admit that his brother is right.

 

Dean chews over Sam’s words, bitter on his tongue under the garlicky pizza sauce. They itch under his skin, distracting from the low hum of voices from the TV until he gives up and goes to bed.

 

Neither of them can sleep that night, tossing and turning in their beds. Sam’s nightmares drag him screaming back to consciousness if he so much as dozes off while Dean struggles to block out the tension and worry in his own gut.

 

With a sigh, Dean rolls himself out of bed, yanking back the sheets and crawling in beside his brother before Sam can protest. Sammy’s been too tall to be little spoon for a while now, but that doesn’t stop Dean from curling up along his brother’s back. He breathes in the grief-tainted scent of Sam, nose buried just behind Sam’s ear.

 

“Go to sleep, Sammy.”

 

He’ll be damned if it doesn’t work.

 

* * *

 

 _At least Dad’s alive,_ Dean thinks to himself. It’s a small consolation amid monsters and Sam’s grief.

 

They gave up trying to use separate beds a few days ago; the lack of sleep and visits from the motel managers about Sam’s screaming weren’t worth trying to save their egos. It’s odd, sharing Sam’s bed as adults, but a part of him undoubtedly takes comfort in having his brother so close. No motel bed is really big enough for two men their size, but being wrapped up in each other is so reminiscent of being kids again, bundled in a single twin or in the Impala’s backseat that neither of them complain.

 

Sam has eased off on the obedient omega act, too, much to Dean’s relief. They bicker and butt heads, arguing about cases and Dad until Dean feels like suffocating Sam with his pillow. Underneath all the irritation, though, he can’t deny that he finds it’s kind of nice.

 

Still, with every hunt and every mile under Baby’s tires, Sam’s heat creeps ever closer. The kid has always been regular, every two months just like clockwork. He’s lucky in that aspect; Dean had heard of omegas who’d go into heat at the drop of a hat, no rhyme or reason to even give them a hint of warning. That kind of irregularity could be hell for a hunter.

 

What Dean doesn’t expect is for it to smell so . . . enticing. Sure, Dean’s been around his brother’s heats before, but he never paid much attention to the smell, only to the underlying fear and pain of a young omega with no mate. It’s a delicious, saccharine sweet layered under Sam’s normal smell, heatscent that makes Dean’s mouth water.

 

Even though it’s faint with Sam’s heat still three days out, Dean finds that his fingers itch to touch. He scoots away, trying to keep his hands off until Sam’s ready, never mind that it's harder to sleep without his brother in his arms.

 

Tossing and turning, Sam can’t seem to settle in either. He’s kicked his half of the covers to the foot of the bed, leaving Dean’s back bared to the cool air of the room. Around 1 am, Dean gives up on trying to sleep and trying to keep his hands off, rolling over to drag Sam into his arms. Instead of relaxing, the younger man goes completely rigid.

 

“Sam. What’sit?”

 

“I should leave. You shouldn’t - I can’t make you do this, Dean. I can’t ruin us because of my damn biology.”

 

Dean takes a slow breath, trying to rein in his temper and the alpha snarling inside him. “You know what’d ruin us, Sammy? That damn social worker sending you off to some halfway house to be picked up by a stranger who might not even give a shit about you. This,” he says, squeezing his brother for emphasis, “this is us. Sam and Dean, like always, just like I said.”

 

“And sex with me is just no big deal? You’re just . . . okay with that all of a sudden?”

 

“Sex with you is a big deal. A big fucking deal, Sammy. Cause it won’t be just sex. You’ll be my mate, more’n just what that paper says. And God knows I am _not_ letting some random be that for you.”

 

Dean chokes a little, words not coming out just like he wants, but Sam gets it. Sam always gets him.

 

“Okay, Dean.” Sam’s words are soft in the quiet. He finally goes to sleep though, fingers of one hand threading through Dean’s. It takes Dean a little longer to drift off, worry clogging his throat until he understands why Sam had been so restless.

 

* * *

  
Sam’s sweltering hot in Dean’s arms when Dean wakes up the day of his heat. He’s murmuring softly in his sleep, clinging to the arm Dean has wrapped around his waist, and rocking ever so slightly back against Dean’s crotch.

 

Anxiety curls in Dean’s gut; how can they possibly be ready to take this step? But the alpha in him insists they can, they have to. Every bit of the smell rolling off of Sam screams _mate_ and _omega_ and _fertile,_ and his instincts demand to knot.

 

It takes some doing to wriggle out of bed without waking Sam, but Dean manages. He nabs a couple of water bottles from the mini fridge and clean towels from the bathroom. There’s a box of condoms tucked into the side pocket of his duffel, but Dean ends up leaving them there in the end. Sam’s been taking birth control ever since he presented, turns out, and his heat won’t be soothed by Dean’s knot alone. Omega bodies demand alpha come before a heat will finally settle; hell, Sam might even experience a pseudo-pregnancy until his next heat rolls around, if only because his mind and body think he _should_ be pregnant.

 

“Dean?” Sam sounds scared, voice soft and tentative in the quiet room. Depositing his goods on the bedside table, Dean slides back in behind his little brother.

 

“M’here, Sammy. I gotcha. It’s okay.”

 

Gentle hands ruck up Sam’s shirt, managing to coax him up to pull off the sweaty fabric. The blankets get pushed back when Dean strips off his little brother’s boxers and his own, all of their clothing landing in a pile on the floor.

 

Sam looks shy, spread out and naked, trying to shield his hard cock with his hands and his eyes darting away from Dean’s searching gaze. There’s a tiny bit of fear under heatscent and embarrassment, and there’s no way Dean can stand for that.

 

“It’s just me, kiddo.” The words feel weird, considering their situation, but Dean can’t help it. He reaches out to grasp one of Sam’s hands, bringing it up to wrap around the amulet hanging around his neck. “It’s me, Sammy.”

 

Something gives in Sam then. He looks at Dean’s face and back at the amulet, letting his body relax. Long legs spread to make room for Dean, and he gingerly settles between them. Sam’s slick is evident, sticky on his thighs and wet on the sheets. The smell of it makes Dean’s mouth water.

 

Dipping down, Dean watches the way Sam’s pupils dilate just before their lips touch. “Do you want this, Sam? I-I have to hear it,” Dean pulls back just enough to whisper.

 

Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Maybe this . . . this isn’t the most ideal. For either of us. But, if I’m gonna be honest, I want it to be you before anyone else, Dean.”

 

The words are so blunt, yet so vulnerable that Dean knows they’re the truth.

 

“Okay, Sammy. Okay.”

 

Their second kiss goes a little deeper, and Dean’s hyper-aware of the warm length of Sam’s cock nudging against his belly. Sam’s mouth is warm and welcoming, and he follows Dean’s lead like they’ve been doing this forever. Dean can feel the moment Sam’s heat spikes, warmth radiating off of him and the air filling with the thick scent of his slick.

 

“Please. God, alpha, please?”

 

“Yeah, Sammy.” Wet greets the head of Dean’s cock as he lines up with Sam’s hole, and the first push in is breath-takingly good. Dean finds himself biting his lip to keep his knot from popping too soon, and he runs one soothing hand over Sam’s chest when he sees that his little brother isn’t faring much better.

 

Pink lips are wrapping around words that look like “God” and “fuck” and “Dean,” but Sam’s not making any sounds. Long legs hike themselves up to wrap around Dean’s waist and one hand shoots up to tug Dean down for a kiss.

 

Sam’s not Dean’s first omega, but he’s the first one in heat. Slick dribbles down between them, sliding through Dean’s pubic hair and dripping down his balls. It’s a good thing, though, with how tight Sam is, hot muscle squeezing every bit of Dean’s cock and he grunts at the mere thought of having his knot caught up in all that.

 

He starts with steady rolls of his hips, but Dean has no chance of maintaining his preferred, gentle pace. Sam demands more with every movement, tugging Dean in with his legs, rocking his hips up into Dean’s thrust, raking his nails down Dean’s back. They fuck rough and quick, biting at necks and mouths, fingers gripping bruise-tight as their bodies slam together.

 

The first time Dean’s knot catches against Sam’s rim, making a soft pop as it gets yanked out, Sam writhes and shoves his hips up so hard he nearly dislodges his brother. Dean pushes up, pinning the omega to the bed with one hand and gripping the curve of Sam’s hip with another. He drags Sam onto his cock, knot jerking in and out until it barely squeezes past Sam’s rim. Grinding down, Dean knots his brother up tight, growling when he finally comes into the panting omega below him.

 

“Mark me. Gotta fucking mark me, Dean-” Sam screams aloud as sharp teeth sink into his shoulder, half from pain and half from the orgasm that rips through him as soon as Dean breaks skin. His body pulses, milking Dean’s knot so he groans around the bloodied flesh in his mouth.

 

Dean laps at the tender mark, saliva speeding up the healing so it’s not even bleeding by the time he sits up fully. Sam’s color has gone down some, the heat fever easing now that he’s knotted and being filled with come. He looks a little stunned, wide-eyed and panting as he looks up at Dean. The moment feels like almost too much, and any words Dean could say stick in his throat. Instead, he presses a gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead and lips, and Sam seems to get the message.

 

“Thanks, Dean,” he whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Of course, kiddo.”

 

Dean leans over, snagging a bottle of water and a towel, wiping the sweat from Sam’s face and the come from their skin before dropping it on the floor. He coaxes Sam to drink half the bottle and downs the other half when Sam presses it back into his hands.

 

“You can dehydrate as easily as I can,” Sam grumbles. “The volume of alpha come means that -mph.”

 

Kisses are a good way to shut Sam up, turns out. He gives up then, and helps Dean adjust them so they’re on their sides. It’s easier on Dean’s knees and Sam’s back, but highlights the presence of the knot still locked firmly inside Sam. On a whim, Dean brushes his hand along Sam’s belly, and sure enough he can feel the faintest bulge where his come is flooding his brother’s womb.

 

“S’it hurt?”

 

“Mm. The ah. The stretch? Not...really. Jess always came a lot. I’m good for a while yet.” Sam hides his face by tucking it against Dean’s neck. They stay like that until Dean finally feels like he can pull out. He edges back, stopping when Sam murmurs a soft _there_. It takes some pushing on his part to coax the thicker substance of his plug out, but when his cock slips free, there’s hardly a dribble of come behind it.

 

“That okay?” He asks softly, rubbing Sam’s swollen belly gently.

 

“Perfect.” Sam’s already half asleep, and there’s no stopping the hand that reaches out to brush sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

 

Dean tugs the blankets over Sam and goes to piss, cleaning his cock and grabbing some more water on his way back to the bed. He doesn’t fight it when Sam snuggles closer, just wraps an arm around his new mate and holds him as he dozes.

 

* * *

 

Sam’s heat lasts a solid week, and leaves the two of them worn out and sore. It takes three days for the swell of come in Sam’s belly to subside, and the loss of it makes Dean’s inner alpha rankle. Instinct swears that Sam should be pregnant, but Dean knows better; Sam’s far too careful about his birth control for there to be an oops.

 

They rest for a couple of days, only breaking from their naps to eat and use the bathroom. In the meantime, there’s a lot of touching and kissing that should feel strange, but somehow doesn’t. Part of the “mate” thing, Dean supposes. He can’t quite keep his hands off his brother, wanting Sam as close as possible as often as possible. Sam, at least, reciprocates, nuzzling into Dean’s holds and initiating his fair share of contact.

 

“Are we gonna lose this? Now that my heat’s over?” Sam asks softly, not looking at Dean as he rolls up another pair of jeans and tucks them into his bag.

 

“Lose what, Sam? Lose this?” Dean gestures between them. “Or this?” He slides closer, resting one hand on his little brother’s hip.

 

“Either. Both.” The tremble in Sam’s tone has Dean reeling him into a tight hug. He smells like brother and mate all rolled into one; no way can Dean let this go.

 

“We can have this as long as you still want it, Sammy. I know I do, and it’s not like anyone can tell us no, not after practically signing our lives away.” Sam laughs a wet laugh, and Dean cranes his head to press a kiss to his brother’s cheek. “Get your bags packed, sasquatch. Checkouts in half an hour.”

 

Being in the Impala helps a lot. Rock music and the purr of the engine relaxes them both. Sam’s leafing through Dad’s journal again, like if he looks at it enough times he’ll memorize it front to back. Hell, maybe he will.

 

* * *

 

It takes some time to work up to sex outside of Sam’s heat. Pheromones do half the work for them, Sam’s scent luring Dean in and his own hormones making him crave each knot and load of come he can possibly get from his alpha.

 

Sex for sex’s sake though . . . it’s a little different. They can afford to take their time without the demands of their bodies getting in the way. Dean can search out the soft places on Sam’s body that earn him breathy moans and whimpers, and Sam learns how sensitive Dean’s nipple are, and just how to stroke his cock to get him off the fastest. The first time they try, they don’t get beyond a lot of heavy petting, each of them finishing in their own hands.

 

This time, Dean’s already got two fingers in Sam, stroking them gently in and out to coax out more of Sam’s slick. He’s not as wet as he is during heat; it takes more stimulation to get him there, and Dean’s more than willing to give it to him. A slow rub over his prostate has Sam squirming, chest and throat shining as he tosses his head back.

 

“Enough, Dean, that’s enough, c’mon.” Sam flutters around Dean’s fingers, rocking back on them demandingly. He spreads his thighs wider as soon as Dean pulls free, making room for his brother to settle between his legs. Dean spares a moment to rub his cockhead around Sam’s rim, just enough to tease them both and to let slick wet his dick.

 

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean grits.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Dean.” Sam drags Dean close, warm breaths fanning over each other's face. Steady rolls of hips drag Dean’s cock steadily in and out of Sam, ghosting over his prostate evenly with each pass. It’s a slow build, pleasure like syrup easing its way through their veins. Kisses get stolen in gentle nips and soft presses of lips while words too-tender for their ears get lost in panted breath.

 

Dean loses it first, coming with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes fixed on Sam’s face. His knot swells, but not fast enough to keep a small trickle of come from seeping out of Sam before they’re locked together. It takes effort, but Dean pushes himself up to get a hand around Sam’s cock, stroking him in the same pace he’d fucked him. His brother - his _mate_ \- looks beautiful when he comes, pink lips parted on a soft sound as he spills between them.

 

Rolling them over, Dean cushions Sam’s weight, letting the omega sprawl bonelessly over him. He’s a little too big for this, but Dean couldn't care less; it feels too right to have Sam in his arms.

 

* * *

 

Dean hates the south. High humidity, disgusting bugs, and the most backwards people the country has to offer. He barely manages to bite back the snarl in his throat when he sees another alpha approaching Sam in the convenience store.

 

He doesn’t hold it in at all when he hears the guy ask “Where’s your alpha, boy? No omega’s s’posed to be wandering around without their alpha. Goodness knows what could happen to ya.”

 

“Right here, jackass,” Dean shoves his way between Sam and the other man, ignoring Sam’s huff of irritation. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to approach another alpha’s mate?”

 

“Mate,” the guy laughs, lip curling. “Right.”

 

Whatever the guy’s feelings are about sibling pairs, Dean’s got three inches and a lot of muscle on him, so he ambles off, leaving Dean growling in his wake. It takes all of Dean’s self control to not follow and kick the guy in the back of his head, but there are witnesses and video cameras, and he really doesn’t want to go to jail today.

 

“I’m not fucking helpless,” Sam bites out when the guy’s out of sight. He stomps off, dumping his purchases on the counter in front of the startled clerk, and Dean sees him stride across the parking lot to the Impala.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Someone’s in the doghouse,” the girl comments as she rings Dean up. “Lord knows I’ve been there before.”

 

“Yeah, s’just my luck.” Dean hands over the cash and dumps the change haphazardly back in his wallet. He wouldn’t put it past Sam to leave him here just to teach him a lesson, but the car is still idling next to the pump when he makes it out the door.

 

Sam takes his food and soda without a word, staring out the window as scenery blurs by. Cranking the music in an attempt to smother a little of the awkward between them, Dean burns about fifty miles before he cracks.

 

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t- It’s not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself, dude. I _know_ you can. But that guy, saying that kind of stupid shit. It made me want to bash his face in.”

 

“I don’t need you to do shit for me, Dean. I’m not a damsel in distress.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a knight in fucking shining armor either. Just a hothead alpha who doesn’t like ignorant dicks messing with his mate.”

 

Quiet stretches on a little longer, and Sam shakes his head. “You shoulda let me kick his ass like I was gonna. Could’ve taught him a thing or two about omegas.”

 

“Next time, I will. Just don’t get arrested, cause they’ll haul me in with you, and there won’t be anybody to bond your pretty ass out.”

 

“Jerk,” Sam laughs at last, cheeks pinking up a little.

 

“Bitch.”

  



End file.
